


Sunday Morning

by sarken



Category: Fake News RPF, Real News RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, OT5, Other, Pets, Polyamory, TSP Comment Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-04
Updated: 2012-04-04
Packaged: 2017-11-03 06:31:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/378361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarken/pseuds/sarken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Keith and Rachel try to take advantage of some time alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sunday Morning

The apartment is remarkably quiet for a Sunday morning. Stephen isn't singing in the shower; Jon and Anderson aren't talking in the kitchen; the dogs aren't even tussling in the halls. The only sound Keith hears is Rachel's breathing as she sleeps next to him, one arm stretched over her head.

He smiles to himself and runs a hand over her stomach, up to the flat expanse between her breasts. "Hey," he whispers when she stirs, her eyelashes fluttering as she struggles to open her eyes.

"Hey." Her voice is thick and she smiles sleepily.

"Guess what." Keith moves his hand back down to her stomach to stroke her skin. He loves how soft she feels under his hand, such a contrast from both the smooth skin of Anderson's hard abs and the faint scratch of hair covering Jon and Stephen's bellies.

Rachel's eyes have drifted shut and she's almost purring under his touch. "Hmm?"

He kisses her jaw back by her ear and nuzzles her neck, breathing in her scent. "I think we're alone." 

"Mm." Rachel lowers her stretched arm and slides her fingers into Keith's hair, curving her hand against the back of his head. "Anything you wanna do?"

"Yeah." He flicks his tongue against her skin, making her chuckle, and then pulls back slightly. "You."

His hand dips between her legs, and Rachel arches into it with a moan, grinding down against the heel of his hand. Her fingers untangle from his hair and her nails scratch lightly down his neck and shoulders before biting in between his shoulder blades.

"I want to kiss you," Keith says, staring at her parted lips.

Rachel opens one eye. "Not with your morning breath."

She bucks her hips against his hand and he changes position, stretching his thumb out to rub back and forth against her clit, getting her hips to rock in counterpoint to his strokes. He watches her breathing change as she gets caught up in the sensations they're creating in her body, listens to the little gasp she gives as he teases at her opening, toying with the idea of sliding a finger deep into her body. 

Instead, he slides his left hand into his underwear and strokes his aching cock until Rachel says his name, startling him back into his head and making him realize he's forgotten about her. He starts to apologize as he pushes down his underwear, but Rachel shakes her head.

"No, listen," she whispers, nodding toward the door. "We're not alone."

Keith does listen, and he hears the door to the apartment close, followed by the skittering and clicking of paws hurrying down the hall. 

Keith shrugs and rolls over, stretching out above Rachel and pressing his lips into the juncture of her neck and shoulder. "Are we trying not to get caught?" he asks, keeping his voice low. He dots kisses across her chest, dimly aware of Anderson and Jon talking to the dogs.

Rachel shakes her head. "Trying not to get interrupted," she corrects, and she reaches between their bodies to wrap her fingers around his cock and urge him forward, like he needs to be convinced.

He pushes into her, half moaning and half chuckling as her heat surrounds him. "You're sure I can't kiss you?" he asks, brushing the backs of his fingers against her cheek.

She smiles and catches his hand. "Later," she tells him, guiding it between her legs and returning his thumb to her clit. "For now, just fuck me."

He thinks about feigning disappointment but knows she'll never buy it, so he just does what he's told, rocking his hips back and thrusting into her, but they don't even get to build a rhythm before the bedroom door flies open, crashing against the wall as Poppy and Cookie burst into the room, panting and wagging their tails.

Rachel groans but stretches her arm out, letting Poppy lick her hand. "I hate you," she calls to Jon and Anderson even as she waves the dogs onto the bed and starts fussing over them, scratching Poppy's chin while Cookie licks her face.

"But I have morning breath," Keith grumbles, but he isn't as put out as he's pretending. He is, however, rapidly losing his erection, so he starts to pull out, but Rachel tightens around him and strokes his hip, encouraging him to stay. He nods slightly and moves his thumb against her clit, smiling at the way she shivers and lifts her hips.

"Are you--" Anderson sticks his head into the room and blushes. "Oh. You were, uh... already up. Sorry." 

Molly trots past him and sits beside the bed, looking up expectantly.

Grudgingly, Keith reaches down to pat her on the head.

"Hey, we brought you cof--" Jon halts in the doorway, but Monkey and Shamsky do not.

Rachel starts laughing when Monkey jumps onto the bed, and Keith says, "Did you lose Colbert? He's the only one missing from this... this ménage à dix."

"It's Sunday." Anderson says that like it's supposed to mean something. It must be clear from Keith's expression that it doesn't, because Anderson clarifies, "He's at church. Actually, he's probably wrapping up his Sunday school class by now."

Keith groans and pulls out of Rachel, who shoots him an offended glare. "It's not happening," he tells her, shooing Cookie out of his way. He could add an apology, but it's not like he's having any more fun than she is.

Jon and Anderson exchange glances. "We really did think you were just asleep," Jon says.

"Want us to get the dogs out of here?" Anderson asks.

"No." Rachel sits up and stretches, arms out in front her and fingers linked. Keith thinks she might be punishing him by not stretching them over her head and dropping the sheet, and his certainty increases when she reaches for the T-shirt tossed down by her feet. She pulls it over her head and says, "I'm gonna take a shower," as she climbs out of bed.

She pats Molly and Shamsky before disappearing into the bathroom.

Keith, Anderson, and Jon avoid each other's eyes until Jon coughs and jerks his thumb in the direction of the bathroom. "I'm gonna go see if she needs help washing her back." He hurries off so quickly he practically leaves a cartoon-style dust cloud in his wake.

Keith snorts, more amused than bitter.

"So." Anderson drags out the word as he walks over to the bed. He puts a knee and both hands on the mattress, stretching toward Keith, and with his lips barely an inch from Keith's, he asks, "How sure are you that it's not happening?"

Less than he was thirty seconds ago.


End file.
